The Flour That Died
by Extra Large Cows
Summary: When Dave Strider moves in next door, Jade Harley lends him a box of sugar. Little do they know they will bear witness to the birth of a box of sugar, the death of a bag of flour, and the promise of a date. A Homestuck AU oneshot. Prequel drabble in second chapter.
1. Visit neighbor

Dave flips his collar up. It looks too dramatic, so he tugs it down. He flips it back up, wondering if a properly folded collar isn't ironic enough. He checks his scarf (a blue one from his best bro) but realizes he has no idea where his hands go. He settles for stuffing them in his coat pockets and schools his face into the appropriate expression.

He rings the doorbell.

 _Finally_ , groans his inner Bro. It has been telling him to _just press the button already_ and _it's not like she knows you so why does it matter how you look_ in an annoying drawl. For his part, Dave has no idea why he has been so restless, standing outside the door for ten minutes like a tool. Usually, impressing people comes easily. Play it cool, throw in a few cheesy puns, smile.

But for some reason, standing at Jade Harley's porch makes Dave nervous.

Finally, he hears the lock click. The door swings open, revealing a short, sturdily-built girl with glasses and dark hair loose across her back. She blinks.

"Hi," she says, "You are...?"

"Dave Strider, at your service." He offers his hand. "I just moved in - "

" - next door! That's right! Hi, Dave! I'm Jade!" She giggles as she shakes Dave's hand. "I was just making tea. Would you like some?"

"No."

"Okay." Dave mentally bangs his head against a metaphorical wall ( _could you be any more stupid she just offered you tea and you turned it down what if it was good tea_ ).Jade seems unfazed. "Did you need anything?"

Dave stares. He has been so focused on getting to the door and knocking and his appearance and saying hi that he realizes that he has no good reason to -

Deep breath. Think. "Um, actually, yes. Do you have some sugar? For coffee. Ran out." Dave has to hide a grin when Jade grimaces at "coffee".

"Hold on a sec." She leaves the door open as she runs into her kitchen. Dave stays outside, beating a nervous tattoo with his left sneaker. The door opens into the living room paved with pine green carpet. A matching sofa against the wall on the left houses pillows shaped like moe limes. Further in, the carpet ends, marking the beginning of the dining room with its linoleum floor, hanging lamp, table, and four chairs. He hears Jade shuffling about.

She comes out and hands him a box. "Here," she says, "I had an extra box. Keep it."

"Er. Thanks." Dave buries his chin in his scarf, hoping it can hide his blush. His neighbor is the sweetest. No pun intended. "I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it." She smiles, and Dave notices the gap in her front teeth. It's adorable.

They stand in the doorway for minutes before Dave realizes he was staring ( _rude_ ) without saying anything. He stumbles through a goodbye and leaves.

Dave thinks about her gap teeth and smile and laughter throughout the day.

He's doomed.

* * *

"Coming!" Jade runs to the door and yanks it open. Sunlight glinting off platinum blonde hair greets her. His lithe figure and pale skin remind her of the Fair Folk of Lalonde's novels, ethereal and deadly. (She shakes her head. Too much late night reading!) His scarlet hoodie proclaims "World's Okayest Friend." A pair of earbuds are tucked into the neckline. He still wears the aviators and scarf from his last visit.

Dave Strider is odd but harmless, she's decided. From casual observation, he's a little bit lonely. Despite his looks, he doesn't seem to have a girlfriend. (Or boyfriend. Here be a judgement-free zone.) The dust bunny party on his welcome mat implies a lack of visitors. From friendly chats with his other neighbor, a retired mail lady, he's not visited her. Just Jade. Not to mention his awkwardness ( _adorableness_ ) from his last visit.

 _Wait_ , Jade thinks, _when have I paid so much attention to my neighbor? He's practically a stranger._

Dave blinks, as if lost in thoughts of his own, before thrusting his left arm forward. A brown plastic bag hangs from his hand. Jade notices the scabs fading from his knuckles. As a fellow sportsperson, Jade can tell the hoodie hides some serious muscle. What she can't figure out is what sport he plays. She's tempted to say skater, but that's a wild guess based on his hipster vibe.

"What's this?" she asks as she takes the bag. He doesn't answer as she peeks inside. "And why are there two boxes of sugar?"

"I owed you one, but turns out your box was a mama and gave birth. 's immoral to separate newborns from mothers, so they're yours," he deadpans. His shades hide his eyes, and the rest of his face reveals nothing, but Jade's sure a friendly ribbing is somewhere in there.

"I'm pretty sure boxes don't undergo sexual reproduction!" She raises a brow. "But thanks!"

Jade feels rather than sees something shift in his expression. Something in his face? No, it's his stance. Despite standing still, he had been vibrating with a kind of anxious energy, but now it's...stopped. "Tell that to the person who had to play midwife to a box of sugar cubes." His voice remains impassive...or is it hiding a laugh? "Rest assured, it was an easy birth. I'm a natural. I couldn't decide whether to assist the birth with warm water and what position a box should give birth in, though." He tilts his head. "I think I managed."

 _He's such a dork_ , she thinks as he rambles. _An adorkable dork._ She hopes he doesn't notice her blush. He's sweet - uh, no pun intended. He really doesn't need to give her one box of sugar, let alone two. Or is this some weird way of wooing her? His sense of humor has her quickly revising her initial assessment of Fair Folk. She mentally scribbles it out with lime crayon and writes "TROLL" on top. He seems like a _SBaHJ_ guy.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he asks, "Uh, Jade?"

"Huh?" Very smooth, Jade, very smooth. She hopes she wasn't staring.

"Can I borrow flour?"

"Uh, sure! What for?"

"Pie." He doesn't elaborate.

She runs in and gets it. She gives him the entire bag - she doesn't bake much anyway, and she can always get some if she needs it. The goodbye this time is just as awkward as the last. She closes the door when he leaves and shrugs before putting the sugar away.

Dave Strider sure is strange.

* * *

It's a miracle that Dave hears the doorbell through the music blaring from his headphones. He takes them off, swings his feet off his desk, and stumbles through the dark, avoiding the wires strewn about. (He's too lazy to turn on the light. The desktop screen is bright enough.)

He shuffles down the hall, past the bathroom, and wrenches the front door open. ARGH! his brain screams as he rapidly blinks ( _why is it so bright outside interrobang_ ). He catches a sneeze in his elbow.

"Jade?" he croaks when his vision recovers. Her hair is down, as usual, and she looks ready to kick ass in a long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length skirt. He is suddenly very aware that his hair passes for a crow's nest. His throat feels dry and so do his eyes. He gives in to the urge to rub at them under his shades.

"Sorry, is this a bad time? I can come back later - "

"No!" he interrupts. At the idea of her leaving, his heart goes doki-doki - gah, stop it, heart! Strider needs his cool now. "No, it's fine. I've just been - " he waves his hand when his words desert him. _Um, staring at a computer for eight hours straight?_

Jade seems to get the idea, though, and nods. "Can I get my flour back, please? I kind of need it." Her spectacles make her eyes look huge.

His mind must've been on autopilot because his irony starts acting up. "I, Dave Strider, regret to inform you, Jade Harley, that your bag of all-purpose flour, aged one month, has died of causes associated with questionable culinary experiments. She is survived by too many cakes, two boxes of sugar cubes, a canister of instant coffee, and some tea. In lieu of flowers, please consider helping me eat some of this godforsaken cake Egbert I hate you so much - "

A snort of laughter interrupts his monologue. Jade clutches her belly, tears running down her cheeks. Her laughter echoes, high and clear. "Dave," she wheezes, "Dave, stop, ahahahaha…"

"Jesus, Jade, breathe." He leans against the door and smiles. "I'm not that hilarious." At least, he doesn't think so. His irony tends to weird people out. His jokes are usually received with a glance (Bro) or an eye roll and a playful swat (John). "I'm serious about not having the flour, dough." The terrible pun sends Jade into another fit of laughter. Stupid John and his pun wars. "Sorry. But would you please, please, please help me eat cake?"

"Since you asked so nicely, sure," she chokes out as she catches her breath and wipes her eyes. "Can I come in?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure." She steps in, and he closes the door after them. "Uh, ignore the mess on the coffee table, yeah, feel free to take a seat anywhere." He shoves his GameBro magazines to one side.

"Don't worry about it. My friend Jake's the same way." She sinks into the couch. "So, uh, why do you have cake? And who's Egbert?" Jade asks as Dave chugs some AJ (sweet, sweet nectar of the gods).

Dave, after searching every single cabinet and drawer, finally finds some clean forks and plates. He opens the fridge. "Come here and look."

She hops off the couch and trots to the kitchen. Dave waves her over to his fridge and lets her look inside. Three measly shelves of the fridge were filled with plastic-wrapped cakes. Chocolate, red velvet, vanilla...and only one of them had about a quarter wedge missing.

"Wow," Jade whispers, "that is a lot of cake." Dave grabs the one missing a wedge and closes the door. Jade stares at the fridge in shock. "Did you make these?"

Dave snorts and rolls his eyes as he cuts two slices and plates them. He hands one to Jade as he puts the cake back. "So, my best bro John comes to visit…" He mentally ticks off the dates. "Last week. It's the week before his finals, and he's all like 'but i need a quiet place to study, daaaaaaaave'." It's a perfect John Egbert imitation. He is the master of Egbert impersonations. It is he. "So I'm like stoked, 'cause I haven't seen him in forever." He doesn't realize he's bouncing on the balls of his feet. He eats a forkful of cake. "The idiot, though, comes into my castle, raids my cabinet, and is all like 'dave, you have flour? oh. em. gee. can i plz bake?'" Dave shapes his mouth into a surprised 'o' the way John does. Which looks a bit silly on Dave's face, but he is willing to sacrifice some dignity for authenticity. "I know he stress bakes, so I'm like 'have at it bro' and. This. Happens." He jabs his fork at the fridge. "I don't even know how he made thirteen fucking cakes in four flavors, and now I'm left to clean up the carnage." He glares at the fridge. "Where the hell do I put the groceries now, you genius?" He sighs and turns to Jade. "Thanks for helping me out. Seriously."

"No problem! I mean, free cake for me, am I right?" She's halfway done with her slice. "And it's good cake, too!"

Dave hums in agreement. "John gets that from his dad. And his hatred of Betty Crocker. 'no self respecting baker uses cake mix, dave. i don't even know how you can stand that thing. bluh bluh bluh bluh bluh.'" He mimes a mouth by bobbing his fork in his left hand.

Jade chokes, and Dave spends the next frantic minutes pounding her back. _Good timing, bro_ , says his inner sarcasm. She manages to recover, thank god, and waves his hands away. "I'm fine, Dave, thanks."

"Jesus, Jade, don't give me a heart attack." He puts a hand to his chest. "I don't want your dead grandpa rising from the grave to sue me for killing his beloved granddaughter, causing emotional distress, and eating cake."

Jade snorted. "He wouldn't do that. He'd probably drop a heavy book on your head, then steal some cake." She scoops up the last bit of frosting and licks her fork clean. "Speaking of lawsuits, I've decided not to hold you responsible for the death of my flour."

Dave pretends to be taken aback. "Why, thank you, Ms. Harley. How ever can I repay your kindness?" Poker face on, he amps up his Texan accent so that "Harley" becomes "Haw-lee." Yes, he is the perfect Southern gentleman.

Jade rolls her eyes at Dave's antics. "I'm coming over tomorrow night to devour all the cake. All of it. And hijack your sofa. And laugh at your jokes."

"Serious?"

"Yup." She pops the "p."

Dave holds up a pinky. "Deal."

"It's a date, then." Hooking her pinky around his, she winks.

"Date?" His heart races. His chest tightens. His face warms.

"You know, a date. When two people who like each other hang out and - "

"You want to go on a date? With me?" Did his voice crack like a teen's?

"Duh, Dave." Jade huffs and puts her hands on her hips. "You're funny, you really care about your friends, and you gave me double the sugar when you didn't have to, though you stole all my flour. But all in all, you're a nice guy. So," she quirks a brow, "is it a date or not?"

"Yeah." He takes her hand and squeezes it. "Yeah, it's a date."

* * *

I posted a version with minor differences on my Tumblr, nuttysaladtree. Acknowledgements go to 221bdisneystreet for the prompt, a paragraph, and a critical eye; hellnonocturnal for encouragement, another critical eye, and ideas; to my friends for being awesome; and to that Omegle reader and many other readers on Tumblr who liked this.

Above all, to readers like you. Thank you!


	2. Before the beginning: Examine scarf

Examine scarf

You're wearing it Sherlock-style: fold in half, put around neck, pull loose ends through. The knitted rows run unevenly. Stitches bunch together in some parts, leaning against each other as if about to fall. That's fine, though. The yarn's darn thick, and the scarf's all one color, so it's hard to tell unless you look really closely.

You say that you like to wear this shitty scarf because it enhances your irony. But you wear it because your best friend knitted it for you for your birthday. He moved away. You miss him.

He knitted it in his favorite color, colbalt blue. (He had the cheek to say, "It matches your eyes, Dave!" knowing very well what you look like without your shades. His eyes are blue, though.) He also told you to "go make some friends dave :B" after a particularly ironic angst session on Pesterchum.

(God, you really, really miss him.)


End file.
